Screaming at the Storm
by DemonShuriken
Summary: Kirk can't help but wonder why he keeps returning to Riverside. Maybe yelling at a storm will give him his answer. But what storm should he yell at, the one raging outside his window, or his own storm inside? *Please read the note at the beginning*


**Please read: **This is going to be a slightly different type of fic in that it is open ended. I want to know how other people would answer the question posed at the end before I share my own answer. I don't know why, but it just sounds like it should be opened ended for now.

**Word Count: **1,051  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Star Trek_ or anything associated with it.

* * *

The sky was a dark grey, lit by streaks of lightning and yelled with the wind. While inside, the room was quiet, with only the gentle hum of the heater offering any sound. The storm was a typical one of the summer in Iowa, and of course there had to be a storm whenever James Kirk traveled back to his childhood home. There was only him left to tend to it, for his father's memory at the very least. Frank had long since died, and Sam had a life on Deneva. Winona left here when he was six, and never came home. There was only Jim left for the old house to shelter. Though, it wouldn't be occupied for long, as this shore leave was just a week long, for minor repairs to the ship.

The old house creaked as a sudden gust of wind kicked up. There was some sound from the lower level of the house, an exclamation at the wind. Jim had invited Bones and Spock to join him, for reasons he didn't know. Yet, they accepted the offer anyway and now used the old rooms as their own. Only his parents room would be undisturbed, the door locked and the key for it long lost.

Jim sat in his room, door closed as he simply watched the storm outside. This wouldn't be the worst of the storm yet, it was just beginning. Rain started to pelt the glass as the strong winds were now a constant. It was just like he was a boy again, watching the late summer storms, sitting cross-legged on his bed. He could almost remember Sam telling him about how lightning formed. But it was little more than a faint whisper in his mind now.

A great bolt of lightning reached across the sky, it's flash temporarily blinding. The house shuddered with the crash of thunder that soon followed. Of course downstairs, Bones was cursing at the weather for knocking the power out. Jim didn't mind that the clock on his bedside table had gone dark. For once, he didn't care what time it was. There was a soft knock at the door,

"Captain?"

He tore his eyes away from the storm. Spock couldn't be informal unless he was ordered too, much to Jim's annoyance. He wanted to watch the storm, but he couldn't ignore one of his companions, "Come on in, Spock."

There was no squeak from the hinges, surprisingly, as they hadn't been cared for since Sam left. Spock's proper composure seemed so out of place, between the storm and the old house. When Sam still lived here, he would lean in the doorways and slouched whenever he wanted to.

"I have been sent to inform you that the power is out. The doctor is not very happy about that, as you might have heard," Spock said, folding his hands behind his back. Jim smirked,

"Yeah, I heard. I think most of Iowa heard."

"Impossible, with the amount of noise this storm is making." Spock turned his attention to the rain that now steadily slapped the window. Jim glanced between the Vulcan and the rain. It was a stupid question, but he couldn't stop himself from asking,

"Have you ever wanted to yell at a storm?"

Immediately the trademarked eyebrow raise came from Spock, "No, I cannot say I have, Captain."

"Damn it Spock, it's Jim when we're not on duty. How many times will I have to tell you that before it gets through that thick skull of yours?"

"My apologies, Jim. And my skull is of average density-"

Jim sighed, "Yeah yeah. Save it, please."

A strange urge welled inside him as he focused on the wind and rain once more. He wanted to be outside and yell at the storm. He wanted to challenge it to a duel. Who was stronger, James Tiberius Kirk or Nature? He wanted to yell, for his memories, for his brother, his mother, his father, and even his stepfather. He just wanted to let this house and all it held to leave him, to fade away.

"Jim, are you alright?"

How could he answer that? He would be fine if he could just burn the house down. He can't keep coming back to it and reliving those years where it was just him to care for it while everyone else went about living their lives, trying to build something. He was trapped on a leash forged of this bizarre idea that he had to continue to live here. He was all the old house had left. He was the last of the Kirks to still live on Earth.

When Spock received no timely response, he knew that the captain was not 'alright.' There was a shadow in those normally bright blue eyes, something that wouldn't have been noticeable just barely a year ago, when their tentative relationship was crafted.

"Jim, tell me what is wrong."

"You've never wanted to scream at a storm? I find that hard to believe. I've seen your emotions first hand, Spock. I know what lies beneath that logical surface. I can see you winning in a yelling match against the wind."

"Why do you wish to yell at nature?"

Jim shrugged, "Maybe it'll listen to me and strike this house with lightning. Maybe it'll finally burn this place down."

Spock watched the eyes of his friend. Whatever storm threatened him within was seen in them. Light blue had been turned dark and gray, as some sort of torment well inside him.

"This is your home, why do you want it to be destroyed?" The words were hard for Spock to even say, the memory of Vulcan still too fresh in his mind. He would give anything to have his home back, but here, his captain was willing to let his home burn.

"I don't know why I keep coming back here. I mean, I'm away ninety percent of the year, and still I can find myself coming back here. I have to take care of the house, Frank never did, and mom couldn't stand to live in it, and Sam abandoned it. There's only me left, but I'm out in space mostly, like my old man. Why do I keep coming to a home that I don't love?"

* * *

And there's the question. So if you wish, I would enjoy hearing some answers to that. And if you want, with your explicit permission only, I can publish them too and credit you of course. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

~With love, Shuri.


End file.
